Page 49 of Winning the Nightcap

“I remember every moment of that weekend. Every detail of the time I spent with you.” I allow the truth to spill out, unable to pull it back, leaving it hanging suspended in the air between us. I could get lost in her stare. She doesn’t respond, but everything about her thoughtful expression makes me feel like she remembers that weekend just as clearly as I do.

Who’s to say how things would have turned out if Bec and I tried to make things work before? We either robbed ourselves of time we could have spent together or saved ourselves from a difficult long-distance relationship that wouldn’t have lasted. I don’t care about any of that now. I hope with every part of my being that she’ll take everything I have to offer her this time. It’s hers already, whether she knows it or not.

“I was right about another thing too. The night I met you, I discovered I really do have a kink for flirting with a certain gorgeous brunette at this bar.”

“That game…it was a creative way to flirt. I’ll give you that.”

“I’d never played that game with another person before that night. Just something I do in my head when I’m alone. But I had to think ofa reason to strike up a conversation with the beautiful woman next to me,” I say.

Bec leans back against the booth and tucks her hair behind her ear. “So do all the girls fall for that one or was it just me?”

“I haven’t played it since,” I respond.

“Oh, come on. Not even once?” she asks, disbelief heavy in her tone.

“I didn’t want to ruin it by sharing something that had become special with the wrong person.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Bec

I’m speechless. All this time, I thought maybe I’d imagined just how much I’d been hooked on him when the night seemed to have left just as much of an impression on him.

“That probably sounds really stupid, forget I said that…” he mumbles.

“Two blondes on the left end of the bar,” I say in a challenge.

The grin on his face has me smiling myself. After a thoughtful pause, he asks, “What brought them into the city?”

“They’re trying to wifey up with a professional baseball player. They heard one likes to come to this bar,” I say, shrugging.

“Is that so?” He rubs the scruff on his chin as he looks over at the women I’ve called out. “You think I use my job to meet women?”

“I think it’d be difficult not to,” I respond, feigning a nonchalance I don’t feel. Picturing Aiden flirting with anyone else makes my stomach turn with discomfort.

“Would being with me bother you given what I do for a living?” he asks the question, and the seriousness of his tone is unmistakable.

“I guess I haven’t really thought about it. What would it be like?”

“It’s not the easiest lifestyle when it comes to relationships.Especially for the guys with families. We have an intense schedule during the regular season. Then there’s preseason training and games. Postseason depends on how well the team does. There’s a shit ton of travel. It’s a lot to ask a partner to deal with. I’ve seen some teammates with great relationships who manage to make it work, while others don’t do well and it’s enough to break them. Not to mention the media can be a bit invasive at times.”

“Sounds like a lot to sign up for,” I say, stirring my drink with my straw.

“I don’t want to sugarcoat it or lie to you. I’d rather you know up front what it’s like, but I don’t think I can do it justice trying to explain it. We’ll take this slow, as slow as you need.”

“Right, one date,” I say.

“For now.” His gaze is thoughtful as he takes a sip of his drink. “Okay, my turn. A man and a woman, sitting in a booth. She’s a knockout in a green dress, and he’s…eh, he’s all right, I guess.”

“Just all right, huh?” I can’t hold in my laugh, because in no world would I describe Aiden as “all right” looking. “Okay, where do you think this couple is headed after this?” I ask, knowing I’m pushing for him to tell me how far he wants to take things tonight.

Despite what I said before about wanting to take things slow, I want this. I want him.

“I don’t know…any ideas?” he asks, scratching along his jaw, his hooded stare locked on mine.

“Maybe one.”

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